


Paradise Lost

by lady_inthebluebox



Series: On the Sword's Edge [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exiled Ryder Twin, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-03-28 19:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13910520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_inthebluebox/pseuds/lady_inthebluebox
Summary: Over a year had passed since the Nexus' disastrous arrival to the Heleus Cluster. With its charismatic leader dead and the Arcs seemingly lost in the dark space, the Initiative soon crumbled and fell into a violent infighting. No matter how hard Sybil Ryder tried to stay away from the mess, eventually, she found herself fleeing the station among the mutineers.Now, she works as a sword for hire on Kadara, with each passing day slowly losing hope of ever seeing her family again.





	1. Shattered Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Notebookalpha/Aviena, for beta reading this and for many useful annotations she'd left for me.
> 
> Second, but not less important one goes to Nyghtmare, for kindness, encouragement and listening to my endless woes... I wouldn't get anything done if not for you; BitterStella for being a huge inspiration of mine and actually ASKING about this thing which was something I wouldn't ever expect (*laughs nervously* I hope it won't be a disappointment); last but not least to Vorchagirl for being so kind and agreeing to read one of the earlier drafts but also offering me lots and lots of encouragement.
> 
> I wouldn't be here without any of you <3
> 
>  
> 
> And a fair warning that the updates might not pop up every single week or on any particular schedule. I'm doing my best, believe me, but the muse is a capricious creature and sometimes she just doesn't want to cooperate...

 

 

 

Transfixed, the brown-haired woman looked at how the liquor moved from one side of the glass to the other while she absentmindedly swayed it between her fingers. Once again, somewhat unwillingly, she wandered with her thoughts to how the hell she had wound up in a bar on some not-at-all-golden planet that stunk like it was made entirely out of rotten eggs, two and a half million light-years away from any place she used to call _home_.

 _New galaxy, new YOU! Join the Andromeda Initiative today!_ —this and many other sickeningly cliché slogans were distributed in various colorful holo-brochures through all corners of the Milky Way. The Andromeda Initiative was meant to be a chance for a new beginning for those who decided to take the necessary risks and leave their old lives behind. Sybil rolled her eyes at how stupid all of those almost idyllic promises sounded, every time she had stumbled onto one.

Why did she join the Initiative, then?

First off, she hadn't had much to lose by doing so. Her career in the military was cut short along with most of her friendships, application letters she had sent to universities were rejected and even though her relationship with her father wasn’t perfect (to say the least) the only thing she could do to stay close to the one person that mattered to her—her twin brother—was to enlist in this mad project alongside both of them.

Sybil wouldn't ever admit it, but Scorpius' belief in the cause had inspired her. He had believed in the new galaxy they could finally escape their father's infamy and build their lives anew. Overcoming her initial scepticism, Sybil decided, that if it was supposed to be a fresh start indeed, she needed to begin a life on her own terms.

This was why—unlike her father and brother, who along the most of human colonists enrolled with the Ark Hyperion—she filed an application for the Nexus—space station that was supposed to serve as the hub for all of the Initiative’s operations in the Heleus Cluster. Thanks to her military training as well as her short service in the Alliance’s peacekeeping force, the young woman was immediately assigned to the ranks of the security.

She knew there wouldn’t be any adventures or blood pumping exploits for her at least until the Initiative's outposts would be up and running. Sybil's post, filled with a multitude of procedures and protocols modelled on the ones from the Citadel, was going to be a _tedious one—_ as her father described it in order to dissuade her from choosing it over the Pathfinder’s team. Alec’s harsh words didn’t affect her decision in any way though. She still considered a slightly boring job in security to be a much better fate than being constantly evaluated and condemned to his judgement.

Maybe if the veteran soldier had used other words; if he had tried to convince his daughter, it would have been a waste of her skills—ones more useful to his team—she could have been swayed. But the man did exactly what he always did. He firmly expressed his disapproval and even Scorpius' attempts to talk her out of parting ways weren't enough to change her mind.

A very last thought that lingered in her mind before she was lulled by the Nexus’ medical staff into the longest nap of her life, concerned the reason why her father eventually let her go. It seemed unlike him to just give up like this (all Ryders were stubborn after all), making Sybil almost sure Alec must have assumed she would quickly get bored with her job and beg for reassignment as soon as the Hyperion would show up in the cluster. If that was indeed the case, Ryder Senior greatly underestimated how determined his daughter was to finally start living her own way.

At the end of the day, neither Alec’s anger, Scorpius’ disappointment, or even Sybil’s plans mattered…

When the moment to step out of her stasis pod finally came, nothing was as it should be, beginning with the way she was woken up.

The process that, at least in theory, should have been slow and gentle, was conducted hastily and in an almost cruel manner. No tender doctor’s hands helped Sybil get up and no one offered her a cup of even a shitty, instant coffee. Instead, as soon as she had opened her eyes, someone—she wasn’t sure if it was a woman or a man, or even a human for that matter—yanked her up by her uniform, barking that she needed to run to her locker and immediately gear up.

Piercing alarms dragged her out of her sleepy haze and the stench of charred flesh turned her empty stomach inside-out. Whoever woke her up didn’t care much about how she felt though, and, quickly moving to another sleeper, once again emphasized that there was no time to waste.

Their first days in Heleus were pure chaos. The Nexus was crumbling. Almost all of the leaders, including Jien Garson, lost their lives on their arrival and no one had any satisfactory answers about what exactly caused almost fatal damage to the station. The new administration blamed a mysterious phenomenon called _the Scourge_. But what was it, exactly? Beside the fact it had something to do with dark energy, no one, not even the scientists, knew for sure—and Sybil was the last person who had the time for asking any futile questions.

From the moment Ryder had left the stasis chamber, she was busy working her ass off in desperate efforts to save whoever and whatever it was possible from the damaged parts of the station. The dangers varied from section to section and even in the fairly safe areas, she could never be sure which of the supporting systems would fail next.  At any given moment she had to be ready to throw on her breathing mask or turn on her mag-boots, clinging to the hope that the Hyperion's passage through the cluster wouldn't be as eventful as her own.

But now, after almost a whole year without a sign of any of the four Arks, Sybil was slowly starting to lose faith in it. The remnants of the Initiative had failed in their attempts to establish their outposts, suffered a bloody mutiny, and most of the colonists reconciled with the idea they might never see the Arks again.

Regretful, unable to stand the thought of that due to her own stupid pride she could never see her dearest brother’s smiling face, or hear even one more word of criticism from her father’s lips, Sybil found herself in Tartarus more and more frequently. Caught up in almost desperate attempts to take her mind of these grim concepts, she became a regular at Kralla's as well. Although judging by how she had briefly run through the span of the last nine months (or whatever time had passed since their arrival to this godforsaken cluster) she clearly hasn’t had enough to drink tonight.

 _Old man would’ve been so ‘proud’ of me now,_ she thought, chuckling bitterly. _This time I’ve probably exceeded his wildest expectations._

“Last one for today, Ryder,” the voice of the asari barmaid brought her back to the surface of a sulphurous-smelling planet and a full glass landed before her as an almost empty one was taken from her hand.

Ryder looked around, noticing that the usually loud music wasn’t playing anymore and she was a very last guest left in the bar.

“Just try to drink it without pulling a philosopher over the glass, ‘cause I want to catch some shut-eye in this century,” the asari threw, swiping sloppily at the empty tabletops with a cloth on her way back to the bar counter.

Sybil carefully smelled the contents of the glass but she had no idea what kind of liquor Umi served her. Almost all of the booze stocks stolen from the Nexus during the revolt had run dry by now and a turian who knew how to brew something decent got kicked out to the Badlands not long ago, so the quality of beverages sold in Kadara Port had drastically decreased. Besides, she wanted to be sure that the barmaid didn’t try to knock her out again with one of her crazy cocktails.

“Oh, just admit that you like me, Umi, and I’ll be gone,” Sybil joked. She quickly noticed that words coming out of her mouth were slightly slurring with one another.

“I don’t,” Henon firmly denied, crouching behind the bar. “I tolerate you only ‘cause you don’t buy on the cuff and leave me any tips.”

The young woman laughed a little too loudly in response.

“Close enough,” she agreed and started fiddling with her omni-tool. “I believe it’ll do for tonight.”

She pressed a button on the glowing, orange console and not long after heard a hum of approval coming from the barmaid’s direction.

“Awfully generous,” Umi said, emerging from behind the counter with a crate full of ringing glasses.

Ryder took a good sip of her drink, thanks to a delicate, almost fruit-like taste, concluding it was most likely something brewed by the angara.

“Some well-off salarian hired us as an escort for a geleo- geoleo-“

“Geologist.”

“Yes! Geleologist!”

Umi let out a deep sigh and rolled her eyes at the woman, clearly mentally preparing herself to listen to a completely unwanted story.

“Anyways, we were well paid for bringing this guy all the way to Draullir so he can seek for some sort of a rock—or maybe an element in the caves.” Sybil paused. “It was a “B” something… Beryl? Bohr?” She frowned, trying to remind herself of what was it all about. “Ah! Barite! The salarian was sure he would make tons of credits on the thing.”

Henon briefly looked at her with a mix of both disinterest and scepticism in her hazel eyes and turned her attention back to the tumblers she had taken from under the bar just a moment earlier.

“I wonder who’s gonna take him back, though…” Ryder continued musing and emptied her glass. “Well, if we won’t get paid to do so, I can only wish him luck with coming back on his own. Trying to get around the wildlife and the Outcasts shooting down those new guys all over the Badlands won’t be easy.”

“Aren’t they calling themselves the Collective or something?” the barmaid threw without any real interest, inspecting the cleanliness of one of the glasses under the dimm light.

“Yeah, yeah… The Collective.” Sybil laughed. “Those little _charlatans_ lurking in the dark corners of the port keep nagging me for some reason,” the young woman grumbled while sluggishly getting up from behind the table. “I have my own band already, don’t need to join their choir,” she added, placing an empty glass on the bar counter.

“As if I asked for any details,” the blue-skinned alien mumbled under her breath, without even looking at her last client.

“Anyways, see you sometime, Umi,” Ryder said on her way to the exit.

The barmaid didn’t reply.

Slightly swaying Sybil stumbled out of the bar. She had barely set foot in the market before she let out a groan, covering her eyes with her forearm. It took her a moment to adjust to the brightness of the leisurely rising sun, rays of which were slowly painting the ever-cloudy sky in various hues of orange so characteristic of the landscape of Kadara.

She was closing her slightly too big jacket to shield herself from the chilly, early morning air when her attention was caught by the muffled sounds of curses and someone crying out for help. Desperate pleas rather quickly turned into a painful yelp, souring the good mood a casual conversation with Umi gotten her into.

It didn't take her long to find the source of the shouting. Close to the doors leading to the docks one of the Outcasts' grunts was kicking the living shit out of a salarian curling on the pavement.

“You could’ve easily avoided it!” The human growled and followed his statement with another blow into the alien’s chest.

The young woman could have sworn she heard salarian’s ribs cracking under the brute’s armored boot.

“I…have only so much…to pay the fe—“ Another hit brutally cut short his excuses, drawing from his lips a painful moan instead.

It was an increasingly common sight around the Kadara Port lately. The so-called _protection fees_ ceased to ensure protection to anyone because many of the armed Outcasts patrolling the streets were allowed to treat citizens like this. In most cases, it wasn't even form of punishment for the individuals who broke the port's rules somehow but because guard’s made up demands weren't being met.

With every cell of her body, Ryder felt the need to step in—she was trained to be the one to intervene in such situations, after all—but the voice of reason told her she couldn’t do that, at least not without an open confrontation with one of Sloane’s men.

When the Outcast's gaze met hers, Sybil's hands curled into fists. Biotics immediately ignited at her fingertips, flaring in her peripheral vision. He looked familiar. Sybil couldn't recall his name, but she was sure they had slept in the same barracks until only several weeks ago.

The man narrowed his eyes at Sybil, warning her that if she didn’t stop staring, he would make her do so. He probably wouldn’t manage to even touch her—but still, Ryder couldn’t afford to displease their graciously reigning _Queen_ any more than she already had. This time she had no illusions—heroism would result in banishment and, unfortunately, free access to the Kadara Port was crucial to her survival.

 _Banishment or something even worse than that,_ she corrected herself grimly.

Feeling guilty and selfish as hell, Sybil turned her steel-blue eyes the other way and hastily walked away from the scene. Trying hard to ignore the cries resuming behind her back, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking of how this rotten, stinking planet seemed to amplify everything appalling in its inhabitants.

Even in her.

 


	2. DIY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took way longer than I thought it would. I'm terribly sorry for that... But hey, I'm back!  
> I bring you this chapter thanks to the great, great kindness of Natsora, who volunteered to be my beta reader and patiently 'trimmed' this chapter with me (there are no words to express how grateful I am for the help, really <3 ). I wouldn't be here now without the amazingly supportive Bitter-Stella, who cheered me up when I was sad and discouraged, and Nyghtmare, who read at least two drafts of this chapter, I think, and always had a good word for me.
> 
> My holy trinity! Thank you so much, guys, I wouldn't make it without you <3
> 
> Also, all of YOU, who commented on the first chapter. It would be a sin to forget you! I love you all and I want to thank you with all my heart! I read all your comments a couple times at least. 
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this a bit silly named one as well :)

 

 

Kadara Port’s slums were the complete opposite of the lively, market square bathed in the warm rays of the sun from early morning hours up to late evening. Located in the dark cave under the mountain, slums were always cold and filled with unpleasantly damp, almost sticky air, stinking even more than it did anywhere else. Besides Tartarus and a few other, smaller buildings, the place was an utterly depressing collage of filthy containers and barely holding together hovels, serving mostly as homes for those who couldn’t afford to live in the upper settlement.

Sitting inside one of the unusually clean corrugated boxes, Sybil hissed as a surgical needle pierced her skin. Deep down, she cursed the vicious wildlife of Kadara with every expletive, human or otherwise, known to her.

"I forgot to tell you the last time." Ryder looked around the shipping container turned makeshift clinic. "I love what you've done with the place."

It was another lame attempt to get her mind off the surgical procedure performed by the doctor with deliberate care but, unfortunately, without any anesthetics to dull the pain. For a time, she clenched her teeth, but not only it wasn't helpful—it gave her a headache instead.

Normally, Sybil would let the injury to heal by itself. She didn’t care much about scars anyway, but this one was deep and needed professional care. Whether she liked it or not, she was left with no other option than to visit doctor Nakamoto.

Thankfully, the man was her friend—at least she believed him to be—and despite the late hour, he took her right after she returned to the port.

“Your flattery is unnecessary, Ryder. I know it’s a mess.” He threw the used needle into the bowl, where some of his tools were already submerged in a sterilizing agent.

 The place was mostly empty at this time of night, so they talked more freely than usual.

“Still, it’s much better than no clinic at all, isn’t it?” she asked rhetorically, hearing a packet of medi-gel being torn open behind her back. She sighed with relief when he applied the pleasantly cool substance on the carefully stitched wound.

“Of course, at least for as long as I have the means to run this place,” Nakamoto mumbled under his breath, dressing his wayward patient’s injury with layers of bandages. 

She didn’t seem to hear his comment though.

“Done,” he declared. “Try not to spar with any eirochs—at least for a few days, alright?”

Sybil peered over Nakamoto's shoulder as he packed his equipment away. She noticed he didn’t have too many supplies left.

“I can’t promise anything, doc. You know it’s technically a part of what I do for a living?” With difficulty, Ryder put her arms into the sleeves of a now completely ruined underarmor. She needed to find a replacement for it and her jump-jet in the port’s market soon. ”Besides, it was a rylkor.”

Disgruntled, Ryota Nakamoto pressed his lips together, aware of how reckless she could be. Not only had she spontaneously taken his side when he tried to talk Sloane out of distributing Oblivion but he had also seen her in action back on the Nexus.

During the last stage of the mutiny she was all ready to charge and leap forward to buy the time for the fleeing rebels with nothing but an asari sword between herself and a horde of rabid krogans. She would have been surely crushed by one of the Nakmor brute’s hammers if someone hadn't held her back in time.

“I don’t have the means to accelerate the healing process any further than the application of medi-gel so, please, be mindful of the stitches. Also, ask one of your friends to change your dressing from time to time,” the doctor recommended, giving her two packets of said substance and other supplies she would need to take care of her injury.

“I’ll try to not fuck up your work, doc,” she promised half-heartedly. “How much do you want for all this?” Sybil lifted her arm to make a credit transfer.

“Nothing. But if, by any chance, you stumble onto any medical supplies out there…“ The man tilted his head in the direction of the exit leading out to the Badlands. “Please, bring them to me. I’ll make good use of them here.”

Ryder nodded in agreement.

“Consider it a d—” She wanted to confirm, but Nakamoto caught her by the chin and gently, albeit firmly turned her head to inspect a deep scar cutting diagonally through her right cheek from her ear midway to her jaw—an ugly souvenir for standing up for him.

The young woman rolled her eyes at him.

“It healed nicely. A shame I can’t do anything about the scar.”

Sybil let out a quiet laugh in response. When he released her, she traced the irregular line of scar tissue with her fingertips.

“Don’t worry about it, doc.” She shrugged. “I quite like it, you know? Adds to my character.”

Ryder tried to wink but instead awkwardly blinked both of her eyes. An angrily muttered curse followed.

Now Nakamoto was the one trying to hold back laughter, though his cheerfulness didn’t last long. A pained cry pierced the night and the doctor's face twisted with guilt. Sybil wondered if he decided to open his clinic this close to the Oblivion den on purpose.

“Hey, doc, you shouldn’t blame yourself,” Ryder said, trying to catch the man’s gaze.

The screams kept coming, making Sybil's skin crawl. Someone out there clearly run out of money for a fix.

“It should’ve been a medicine…” the doctor muttered, looking away.

“I know… And it pisses me off that we can’t do anything more about it.”

Ryota huffed audibly.

“As much as I appreciate your good intentions, Ryder, I think you’ve already stuck your neck out way too far because of my mistake.” He walked towards the entrance.

“I don’t regret my decision, doc.”

Nakamoto didn’t reply. He stared down through the metal grille at the muddy street below. Except for the muffled sounds of electronic music thumping through the walls of Tartarus, the slums were quiet again. One Outcast grunt stepped out of the filthy den and dragged the poor, beaten to unconsciousness, addict further into the back alley.

Ryder knew the doctor still couldn’t understand why she took his side when she did. He tried to ask her on one occasion, but after getting a vague and bitter _“I realised how naïve I was”_ as the reply, he didn’t press any further. She didn't really want to talk about it either.

As one of the few security officers who joined and survived the mutiny, Ryder climbed fast and far within the Outcasts ranks. She was responsible for planning the patrol routes around the port and later also for overseeing collecting of protection fees. Still, she didn’t have much influence but working as one of Kelly's lieutenants meant easy access to rations and resources, making her life easier than it was now.

When Nakamoto came to express his concerns about mass-producing Oblivion as a drug and was dismissed with a wave of Sloane’s hand, Sybil's morals kicked in faster than she could think. Insubordination wasn’t tolerated by Kadara Port’s ruler. Truth was, Ryder wasn't sure what she had expected to happen.

It was a miracle their heads weren’t hanging on spikes as cautionary examples to other similarly righteous ones. They ended up being thrown out of the headquarters—severely beaten but alive. If it happened now, with Collective raiding Outcast's outposts on the Badlands and their little  _charlatans_ infiltrating the port, they wouldn’t be as lucky.

“Hey there! What’s taking so long?” An angara shouted, pulling her back from the unpleasant reverie. “Is _the Saber_ dead, doc? Can I have her sword?”

“No you can’t ‘cause, unfortunately, I’m still kicking,” Sybil replied, joining the doctor and looking at her friend through the grille. She packed the medical supplies into the satchel hanging on her hip. “Even though blowing up the rylkors’ nest was a nice try, Ann.”

“ _Skkut_!” the blueish-skinned angara cursed in her mother tongue. The Milky Way translator always had trouble with the angaran swear word. “So much effort for nothing,” she sighed theatrically.

Nobody spoke for a second, then both of them burst out laughing. Nakamoto was completely baffled by their odd sense of humor.

“Sappho dragged the carcasses to the butchery so I’ll wait for you near the lift to the port,” the angara informed. “Or would you prefer if I called her back and we all go grab a drink at Tartarus?”

“Oh, I could use a stiff drink or two right now!” Ryder shouted, Out of the corner of her eye seeing the doctor shaking his head.

“By the entrance then!” With that, the angara turned and walked towards the night club.

“Go, Ryder, and please try to be more careful. I don’t want to examine your corpse any time soon.” Ryota rushed out her with a gesture.

“You won’t get rid of me that easy, doc,” Sybil laughed in reply and picking her way through people sleeping nearby the newly set soup kitchen, disappearing from his sight.

 

* * *

 

Tartarus was bursting at its seams with revelers nearly every night since it opened. It wasn’t a fancy club or even a clean one but residents didn’t have many choices, which quickly made it a melting-pot of souls looking to lose themselves in the press of flesh against flesh set against the heavy beat of electronic music. Recently, in the crowd there was no shortage of wretched ones, kicked out from the mountaintop settlement because they couldn’t afford to pay the constantly rising protection fees. For them, Tartarus served as the last stop before heading out to the uncertainty of the Badlands.

The night club had one regular guest who didn’t fit into any of those categories. He was rarely seen on the dancefloor and when he talked with anyone, it was always for business for he was constantly working an angle. Otherwise, Reyes Vidal blended perfectly with Tartarus’ patrons. So well, no one would have ever suspected, under the guise of a slightly cocky smuggler, he was carefully plotting schemes set for gain far greater than a round sum of credits.

As usual, Vidal was conducting business in the back room at the club's second level. Carelessly slouching over one of the worn out couches, always with a drink—preferably some kind of whiskey—within the reach, he buried himself in work and it was one he wasn’t widely known for. Although, unlike most of the evenings, Vidal wasn’t alone. Joined by his closest collaborator, he was busy going through Initiative’s dossiers of individuals—mostly Exiles—who might be beneficial to their... _cause_.

Reyes couldn’t help but think of how much obtaining these files had cost him. Recruiting a crafty salarian, who stole them from the Nexus databases during the mutiny and wiped some of the station’s hard drives with a virus while doing so, wasn’t cheap. Thankfully, the investment was paying off big time, because _Goldfinger_ provided him with access to most of the Initiative’s personnel records.

With dawn approaching and almost all dossiers read and organized from most to least useful, both Reyes and his angara associate could finally take a moment to relax. Leaning against the railing overlooking Tartarus’ main floor, they leisurely sipped the last of their drinks.

 _If only recruiting Ryder’s was as easy_ , Reyes bitterly pointed out to himself as he nipped from his glass.

“Look who the adhi dragged in,” remarked the grey-skinned alien, tilting her head in the direction of three figures entering the club.

It was as if he summoned her with his thought. Despite the dark interior of Tartarus, lit only with the dim glow of neon lights, he spotted a multi-raced trio with ease— _the Sirens_ they called themselves—walking through the crowd of drunks. Among them, the brunette he wanted to snatch for his growing organisation ever since he got wind she was free for hire.

For several weeks now, Vidal had been trying to contact her both through messages as well as his representatives, although she didn’t respond to any.

“Are you sure, we should persist reaching out to this girl?” the angara asked, not bothering about the revellers passing them—most of them too drunk at this hour to understand their conversation. “I imagine that as a daughter of this _Pathfinder_ of yours she might be useful but is her involvement really so crucial?” She expressed her doubts and put a thick cigar between her lips, surrounding herself with a silver cloud of slightly sweet-smelling smoke.

Reyes made a dissatisfied _‘tssk’_ at both the angara and his own failed attempts to recruit Ryder.

“I wouldn’t underestimate her. I know Grissom’s Academy, Systems Alliance and things like biotics don’t tell you much, but trust me, Keema, she’s exceptionally well trained. We could use her skills for something better than killing adhis and running around the Badlands on other similarly shitty jobs,” he explained, taking a long sip of liquor.

It was a tremendous waste of talent and Reyes hated squandering resources more than anything else, especially now, when they were so scarce.

“I don’t know about that last part. Kaetus beat her into a pulp with ease right before throwing her and that doctor out of their headquarters,” Dohrgun remarked, rising her eyebrows.

“Really? And I was convinced you’ve mentioned two krogans were holding her for him...” Vidal frowned at her.

“If she's really that good, she wouldn't let them catch her in the first place…" she pointed out. "Anyways, if I were you, I’d rather go after that friend of yours. You know the one looking more like a kett anointed than a human,” Dohrgun continued.

He chuckled, knowing well who she had in mind. Said man wouldn’t be happy with this comparison.

“Bain can be anywhere and she’s here, within my reach,” he reasoned, gesturing at the brunette standing almost right beneath them. “I’d love if this jerk had my back, believe me. A platoon of Sloane’s goons wouldn’t stand a chance against him, but for now, our resources are stretched too thin to search for him.”

 _Mad bastard._ Reyes snorted, remembering how little time it took Massani to get bored of Kadara and fly the fuck away to seek more _bony motherfuckers_ to shoot on his own.

 _Just like his father was._ Even though the subject annoyed him, childhood memories of an old, scary-looking mercenary, made the corner of his lips rise in a fond smile.

Senior was always keen to share stories of his crazy mercenary exploits. Even taking some of the—hardly credible—tales with a grain of salt, Vidal could easily see how bravado combined with an unbelievable amount of luck carried over to Junior like some sort of strange, family trait. 

Reyes considered it an unusual coincidence, that in the vastness of the Milky Way, he not only worked with but also befriended Zaeed’s illegitimate son—just like his stepfather did with Senior before him. He had never shared any of his observations with Bain, though and it was better to leave it this way.

 _Like fathers, like sons_ —despite its awful cheesiness, this old saying fit them like a glove. 

“I don’t see how one girl can help us to win this mountain, Reyes, but I hope she’ll live up to your expectations,” the angara acquiesced with a quiet sigh. “But sooner or later your eiroch-sized friend would need to resurface to replenish his supplies. I intend to lean on some of my... old friends just to be sure we’ll know when he does,” she added.

There was something slightly menacing in her tone at the mention of her debtors. Keema cared greatly for her people but she didn’t strike him as merciful to those who crossed her. Reyes never wanted to find out how true his assumption was. Not personally at least.

“I can agree on that.”

Massani was a damn troublemaker but both he and _Molly—_ whatever shotgun he was calling with this name now—could have been more useful to him on Kadara, than wherever the fuck he had ended up. The man wasn’t much of a _joiner_ although the matter of convincing him to come aboard the Collective didn’t concern Vidal too much. He was out of the picture—well, at least for the time being—which made Ryder one of the most valuable acquisitions available. 

Reyes was even more determined to recruit people like her, because most of the mutineers were just civilians—some of them more educated than others, but all barely trained to hold a pistol, let alone shoot it. Ones who joined the Collective were eager to stand against the increasing tyranny and injustice, get revenge or whatever else motivated them, but without a decent aim, pitted against the well-trained Outcasts they were nothing more than a cannon fodder.

He had a few ex-mercs from the Milky Way on his payroll and Keema promised to recruit some of her brethren dwelling in the Badlands, but it wouldn’t be enough. If his bold goal of taking over the mess Kadara Port was slowly turning into, was to come to fruition, he needed experienced operatives to share their skills with the green recruits.

“Do you know anything about her angara associate?” he inquired, pulling the conversation to what interested him.

Both the young woman and her angara friend turned towards one of the couches at the back of the club’s main floor, while their turian companion went to the bar. Reyes noticed a long, irregular cut, splitting open the back of the brunette’s underarmor. The damage was unreparable and for a short while, he wondered what was the story behind it.

“What makes you think I’d know anything?” the woman countered, releasing fluffy puffs of cigar smoke from between her lips.

Reyes’ chuckle echoed in his glass before he drank from it.

“C’mon, Keema, you know almost every angara living in and around the port.” Dohrgun rolled her gleaming, sapphire eyes at him.

She couldn’t deny it. He was aware she dealt with many of her people during the kett occupation of Kadara. Besides, out of pure habit, she was still buying information about comings and goings of the ones that passed through the port. In this, they were alike—both liked keeping their fingers in every pie possible.

“Tai’Yaana is smart. Heard she’s good at making things blow up.” Reyes leaned closer, paying attention to every word. “But my sources told me she's never fully committed to anything. She used to study under the Moshae for a while, which is a great honor among our people, but she resigned over a petty disagreement. After that, she joined the Resistance but left its ranks as well.” Keema shook her head. “I wouldn’t rely on her.”

“That Moshae, I keep hearing so much about? The one that had gone missing?”

“The one and only,” the angara confirmed.

“What about the other one?” she asked, before Reyes could ask another question.

Vidal frowned, from his memory fishing out contents a datapad left in the pile of those belonging to the most promising individuals.

“Sappho or rather Sapphiria Speravi is a curious case...” They eyed the tall silhouette of a turian woman with drinks in both hands gracefully manoeuvring between the revellers. “According to the data, she should’ve been on board one of our missing Arks but she came to Kadara from Elaaden not long ago. Along with that injured angara, who sought for your help, no less.”

“Lieta,” Keema mumbled under her breath. “Poor child.”

Vidal took a sip. “Files say she’s been through military training. If there’s one thing you should know about turians it’s that, back in the Milky Way, they have an exceptional army. Turian soldiers are known for dedication and utmost discipline.”

“Oh, so it’s not only Kaetus that acts like a trained adhi?”

He couldn’t disagree with the statement but didn't comment on it either.

“Why, then, haven’t you try to recruit her?”

Reyes didn’t speak. Instead, his smile widened and turned into a cunning smirk. Obviously, this wasn’t an oversight on his part.

“Indulge me in a little guessing game, Reyes. Answer only with a yes or no,” she inquired amusedly, gesticulating with what little was left of her cigar. Its smoke drew intricate, silver patterns in the air. “You’re planning to snatch all three  _Sirens_ , am I right?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Always gambling for the highest bid, aren’t you?” Keema delicately shook her head, throwing the cigar stub into her empty glass.

“Yes,” he admitted with a smirk. “Most of the time. I have reasons to believe that if I play my cards right with Ryder, her friends will follow suit,” he clarified.

“Thought you’ve played all of them by now.”

Reyes chuckled.

“I still have a one left. You see, my friend, we humans have a saying…” Still grinning Vidal turned his perceptive, golden eyes towards the trio and finished his drink. “ _If_ _you want something done well, do it yourself_.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cherish my readers' feedback, so don't be shy and leave me something too.  
> I don't bite, promise :)


	3. A Sword for Hire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> I'm alive and back with a new chapter. I know it's been a long time since the last update but those of you who follow me on tumblr probably know from all my whining that the last two months have been... tough for me. But you know, who excuses himself, accuses himself or smth along this line... The thing that redeems me somehow (I think) is that this chapter is almost the length of two previous ones together. If it's any good? Hell if I know, but I definitely tried to do my best.
> 
> Also, a HUGE shout out to a true hero of this story - Natsora who kindly helped me polish this chapter and make it readable.
> 
> And of course kudos to all of you who commented. Even though I responded to some of them pretty late, you can be sure I've read them multiple times <3 <3 <3

 

 

A high-pitched sound broke the silence that fell over the room at the back of the Tartarus like a cozy blanket, the moment the last drunk patrons had left or were carried out.

Reyes shuddered and it took him a moment to shake off the initial disorientation. The annoying noise coming from his stationary message terminal—a major clue that not for the first time he fell asleep stretched out on the couch in his secluded side-room.

With a disgruntled groan escaping his lips, he pulled himself to a sitting position. Judging by the pain in his neck, he must have spent at least a few hours like this.

“Motherfucker.” A heatless curse slipped through his lips when an audible crack resounded from under the heel of his boot.

With a sleep-numb hand, Vidal picked up a datapad from the floor and rolled his eyes at its broken screen. _Wonderful_ , he thought, sure it must have slipped from his hand after he fell asleep. He was doing his best to stay focused on the contents of Keema’s weekly report but apparently, exhaustion eventually won against his resolve.

He needed to give it a read while fully conscious as soon as possible, remembering a lengthy part devoted to the worsening situation of the angara living in Kadara Port. It was disconcerting with every passing month of Sloane’s reign the number of native dwellers banished from the settlement grew in comparison to the exiles sharing the same fate. Even worse was the majority of the angaran evictees were winding up among the local Roekaar.

Reyes shoved the thought to the back of his mind to examine later. He put the device on the table, right next to a glass and an half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Not bothering to suppress a wide yawn, he got up from the couch and let his feet lead him to the still ringing terminal. On his way, out of the pure habit, he brushed back his hair and fixed the collar of his vest to make himself at least moderately presentable before picking up the call.

“ _Paavoa, Shena_.” A deep, slightly husky voice belonging to the Resistance’s leader came through the speakers after he entered a complicated passcode. “Did you have any problems retrieving the device?” the angara asked, not waiting for a response to his greeting.

“All went smooth as silk.” Evfra frowned briefly at the phrase, so Reyes quickly added, “Your people hid it well and sent me very precise coordinates.”

“Good.” The angara nodded. “Any news about any of those missing Arks of yours?”

Reyes had expected this question. He knew even though Evfra wasn’t happy about the prospects of greeting members of the Initiative on any sovereign angaran world, let alone Aya, he wanted to know when the next waves of aliens arrive in _his_ cluster.

“Nothing so far.” The truth was Vidal didn’t know. It was highly unlikely but the situation might have changed since the last time he heard anything from the Nexus. “I’ll have regular updates on the matter when I get this satellite fixed.” _Which would be much easier if your scientists didn’t try to take it apart._

How the Initiative’s satellite found its way to Voeld remained a small albeit curious mystery. Not only Reyes wasn’t an expert on the matter but the damage caused while angara studied the device, made it difficult to tell. It could have crashed onto the surface of the icy planet due to some malfunction or have been taken down by other means. Although given the angara’s traumatic encounters with aliens, Vidal was leaning towards the latter.

As much as he wanted to know, he had no intention of asking. It was best to not look a gifted horse in the mouth. He was one of the _vesagara_ —an _exile_ —unwelcomed in Heleus, only a little less so than the kett. Being too nosy would be bad for his delicate relationship with Evfra.

“I await your report when everything will be set up.”

“Understood,” Vidal agreed, feeling a sudden urge to salute. “But I guess it’s not all you want in exchange for such a valuable piece of tech.”

It wasn’t a coincidence or an act of charity. Whatever Evfra wanted him to do this time, he was sure it wouldn’t be anything easy.

“No,” the angara denied sharply. “My agent within the Roekaar got his hands on an important intel, but unfortunately his comrades doubt his loyalty to their cause...”

“If they are so suspicious why won’t you send some operatives to get him? From my experience they are very efficient at being sneaky,” Reyes asked, cockily knotting arms over his chest.

Evfra’s scar-cut face twisted as if something smelled. Clearly, he wasn’t too fond of this not so subtle reminder at how they wounded up in this strange partnership.

“I would prefer that, but I don’t want to antagonize Akksul and his followers any further,” de Tesherav explained stiffly. “We’re fighting one war already and, unlike the leaders of some other races—” He sent him a pointed look. “—I would rather not have to deal with a civil one as well.”

Reyes tightened his jaw. Even though he wasn’t a fan of the Nexus’ new administration and their decisions, these harsh words still got under his skin.

 _Great_ , he sneered. _Let’s give these lunatics one more reason to hate us._

No matter how much Vidal didn’t want to be involved, he couldn’t refuse the task. Not after what he brought back from Voeld, not without losing the support from Aya and disappointing Keema in the process.

_Well-fucking-played…_

“What if they discovered the Resistance was working with _vesagara_? Wouldn’t it make everything worse?”

De Tesherav chuckled, but it didn’t have a subtle ring of amusement—the sound dry and bitter.

“I thought it was clear that I expected you to work without leaving any evidence behind...”

For a few seconds, Reyes expected some sort of semi-threatening ‘or’ to follow but apparently Evfra considered it unnecessary.

“My agent was reassigned to one of the cells operating on Kadara,” de Tesherav continued. “I want you to retrieve the data.”

It all added up when Reyes thought about it. If Akksul or one of his lieutenants got suspicious of this guy there was no better place to get rid of him than Kadara. Not only they could kill him here and drop the body into one of the sulfur springs, but also blame the exiles for the deed. Doing so would surely drive the native angara towards more hate against them, killing two birds with one stone.

“I thought so… But I hope you’re aware, this operation doesn’t exactly match with my usual field of expertise,” he warned, involuntarily gesturing his hand.

“Not from what you’ve told me...” An unspoken ‘ _and you haven’t told me everything’_ hung in the air. “But again, you’ve been resourceful so far and I am trusting you with this task. All I care is the result, the rest is up to you.”

“You’ve mentioned the data but what about your spy?” Reyes asked, his mind already angling for something to exploit.

“Intel is your main priority.” Evfra paused. “My agent is aware of the risks.” It sounded cold and calculated but Vidal could hear the edges of regret in Evfra's voice.

_Bingo._

The leader of the Resistance might come off as stiff, intimidating or even plain unfriendly but once Reyes began to work closely with him, he realized how much Evfra valued and cared for his people.

“Seems like a very brave man…” Vidal acted impressed.

De Tesherav remained silent but his demeanor betrayed him. There was something more to it all. Reyes had a distinct impression that Evfra had a guilty conscience but he wasn’t surprised by it.

Very early in life he understood, there was almost nothing entirely black or white, good or bad. The universe was filled with shades of grey, instead. Even entrepreneurs, patrons of arts and science—like Jien Garson for an instance—cut corners and had their arms up to their elbows in various controversial activities. Not only he learned it firsthand but made a living, and a quite comfortable one, out of smuggling illegal goods for some of them.

“I imagine his mothers must be really proud of him.” Already equipped with quite extensive knowledge about how important family bonds were for their species, he continued.

The angara looked down with furrowed brows, lost in his thoughts. Vidal gave him a moment to reflect on whatever was going on with his spy.

“To the black hole with you, _Shena_.” The words spat out like it tasted bitter. “Bring him back if you can,” he ordered. Even though he had basically surrendered the game, he straightened his spine proudly.

“At any cost?” Reyes asked hopefully, hinting he expected additional payment.

“I should’ve known...” Evfra sighed heavily in defeat. Reyes knew he had won this round.

There was a reason why the angara called him _the mouth_.

“You’ll receive a map of every operating and abandoned Roekaar hideout in the valleys surrounding Kadara Port—” Evfra paused, narrowing his eyes at him. “—but only if my spy reaches Aya unharmed.”

Vidal wasn’t surprised by the catch. He expected it.

It wouldn’t be easy to get this guy out without a scratch but sneaking in and out of the Roekaar base or even just trying to contact him might turn out to be just as, if not more, difficult.

His agents had already put a couple of the Roekaar hideouts on the map while they were exploring the hills and valleys surrounding the Kadara Port. Having precise knowledge about the locations of all of them could turn useful in more ways than one. Acquiring it was worth any effort and credits. He would have to at least give it a try.

“We have a deal, then,” he agreed, without any further haggling for once. “Send me everything I need to know about your man, when he’s supposed to arrive, the coordinates and so on…”

The angara nodded.

“The sooner I get them, the sooner I’ll be able to plan. Do you require anything else from me?”

Evfra looked down, clicking a few buttons on the device, its functionality all too reminiscent of an omni-tool.

“Nothing more for now,” de Tesherav declared, taking his eyes off the glowing orb hovering over his forearm. “ _Isharay, Shena._ ”

“ _Isharay._ ” With the courteous farewells spoken in shelesh, the call was over.

After the face of Resistance’s leader disappeared from his terminal, Reyes’ lips stretched into a sly smile.

He knew what he needed to do next, or rather, who he should hire to help him with this job. Unknowingly Evfra had created the perfect opportunity for him to approach Ryder and her _Sirens_ and give him a chance to eventually recruit them to his cause.

Until now Vidal did his best to avoid meeting potential, new agents in person but Ryder forced him to change his tactics. He agreed with Keema, stepping onto the chessboard himself was a dangerous move but Ryder’s skills, as well as her inside look on the Outcasts, were worth the risk.

Plus, he needed to get to know her and her friends first. There was probably no better way than to work with them. Everything would depend on how this panned out.

Already wholly absorbed with planning a meeting, Vidal grabbed the broken datapad and quickly left his _office._

***

 

Sybil let out an exasperated sigh causing her turian friend to glance up over the poorly polished helmets displayed on the other side of the counter.

“Seriously? This kett junk is all you have?” She pointed at the crate the saleswoman put before her a few moments earlier.

“Had a buyer for every other human-fitting piece of equipment,” the krogan explained with a slight shrug.

“Who was it? I’d like to contact them,” Ryder fired quickly, hoping she could buy what she needed from them.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Never meet them.” The alien made yet another dismissive move of her shoulders.

“How it’s even—” Sybil stopped. “Nevermind. What about something asari-made?”

“Are you humans going deaf so early in your lives or something? I said every single human-fitting piece,” the krogan articulated the last sentence slowly and knotted her arms.

Sybil frowned, her blood starting to boil.

“You’re fucking kidding me...” she muttered under her breath, doing her best to control her temper. “And you don’t keep anything... _special_ —” Ryder made air quotes with her hands. “—hidden under the counter by any chance? Damn the jump-jet… But if you’d have any underarmor I’m ready to add a good pistol to whatever you’d want for it.” Word shot from her lips as fast as bullets from a machine gun.

Gritting her teeth, Sybil put her M-25 Hornet pistol on the countertop. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Sappho’s mandibles pressed tightly against her face while her nose plates were moving up and down nervously.

 _Not a good idea, Ryder_ , turian’s demeanor seemed to say but Sybil knew it was her last shot, literally.

If pressed, Sybil could work without her gun or jump jets, she would still have her biotics and sword to fight with. What she couldn’t do was to head out into the Badlands with parts of armor merely strapped over her clothes.

The merchant glanced at Hornet and shook her head.

“I’ll admit, it’s quite a nice pistol but unfortunately I don’t have anything else to trade it for.”

“Fuck my luck,” she cursed angrily, tucking the Hornet discretely behind her pant's waistband before flicking her jacket to cover it. “When’s the new shipment coming?”

“In a week… Maybe mor—”

“What?!” Ryder slammed both palms onto the counter. “I can’t wait that long!”

Unnoticed, Sappho moved closer to the brunette, hovering within arm’s reach, just in case.

“Then catch a shuttle to Elaaden and find whatever you need on your own, missy!” the merchant roared straight into the young woman’s face, imitating her posture.

Though the krogan female towered over Sybil, she didn’t flinch. With faces just a few inches apart, both women stared angrily into each other’s eyes.

Eventually, Ryder took a deep breath and backed away.

“Thanks for nothing,” she sneered and left, not bothering to look at Sappho.

Sybil stormed through the market square with eyes set on her heavy boots. Her legs taking her to Kralla’s Song automatically. _Who the fuck bought all that equipment? And for what?_ Her first bet was the smug turian overseeing to the Outcasts’ armory but she quickly discarded that idea. She remembered the krogan was obliged to pay her protection fee with the best of her equipment.

The young woman sighed. A three-fingered hand fell on her shoulder jarring her from her thoughts.

“Don’t worry.” Sappho’s talons tightened on her flesh reassuringly. “We’ll get it eventually.”

Ryder huffed audibly and brushed back strands of hair that slipped from her messy bun. She didn’t want to talk about any of this.

Dissecting what happened over and over again, was exactly what her father made her do during the repeated viewings of her training simulations for the peacekeeping force. Although she never failed, her scores were falling closer to the average than to what a decorated, N7 operative expected from his offspring. Alec wanted to fix it by forcing her to review her mistakes and proposing ways to prevent.

Sybil found it humiliating and resented her father for how hard he was on her. Well, at least until her first encounter with pirates in the Traverse. But even after successfully implementing his advice to protect the science team on dig sites, she was too stubborn and proud to thank him for the tough lesson. Ever since it became sort of a peculiar habit of hers—a method of learing on her own mistakes.

Looking back at the rylkor incident, Ryder felt like an idiot for charging the rabid creature head on. It seemed an exciting idea at the time but now she knew better, she should have been more careful and kept a safe distance from the creature. Her reflexes failed her so she got in the way of the its sharp claws… And into this bitch of a situation as a result.

“What’s with the faces?” an upbeat voice came through the hubbub of the market square. The angara approaching them from the other side shot a short, pointed look towards the Outcasts’ recruiter shouting her empty slogans and almost right into her ear as she walked by. “Ah, I see… You walked out empty-handed?”

They all stopped near the Kralla’s Song.

“Mh-m.” Sappho nodded, her mandibles tilting in a disgruntled grimace. “You?” she asked looking at the medium-sized package, Tai carried under her arm.

“I bought the tools.” Tai’Yaana patted the bundle affectionately.

“At least that much went as it should,” Ryder mumbled under her breath.

“What do we do now?” Sapphiria knotted arms over her chest.

Two pairs of eyes turned to the brunette, their eyes demanding for a brilliant plan or at least a constructive answer. Sybil had none.

“You’ll fix _the Turtle_ and continue joyriding around the Badlands while I wait until, hopefully, lady-krogan receives something useful in the next transport.” Sybil helplessly spread her arms to the side. “I don’t know… If I get really bored, maybe I’ll seek out some jobs for you.”

“At least Nakamoto will be happy to hear your back will have time to properly heal,” Sappho pointed out, trying to find at least one positive thing about the situation.

The brunette just groaned.

“I feel like I’ve neglected that rattling wheel for too long,” Tai’Yaana said out of the blue, hoping to steer the conversation to calmer waters.

“Definitely,” the turian woman admitted. “The noise got pretty awful yesterday. We need to fix it before the truck breaks down in the middle of the Badlands...”

“Stars, I hope it isn’t the swingram or bearing ‘cause neither will be easy to fix.”

As soon as the conversation turned to mechanics Sybil felt like her friends spoke in a completely foreign language. She shuddered, wondering how much boredom she could stand in the coming week.

It was only three days since she got injured, but she was already sick of staying alone in the Port for extended periods of time. With her back still healing, she couldn’t mix her yoga routines between cleaning her armor and polishing sword yet. And even if she would be able to do that… There was only so many times she could repeat all of the asanas without going crazy.

She wasn’t accustomed to being left completely alone. Back in the Milky Way Sybil almost always had her brother to keep her company. Even when they were apart during her service in the peacekeeping force she could always call him, spend some time with members of her unit or even the scientists who were more than happy to entertain her with discussions about their current excavations.

“Yeah, as I said, you go and do… That,” she agreed, taking a step back, trying to ignore the ache in her chest at the thought of her twin and what seemed now like _the_ _good old days_.

“You’re not going with us?” Tai narrowed her eyes at her.

“I don’t know shit about fixing vehicles… Breaking them—” The brunette scrunched her nose at the memory of that one time she took her father’s sky car for a ride around the Citadel. ”—maybe… But definitely not fixing.”

“We could use someone to hand us tools.” The turian woman propped her talons over her slender waist.

A sudden flash of envy ran through Sybil. _I'd kill for a waistline like that._

“Trust me, it would be better if I just go for a drink now…” She pointed at Kralla’s. “And who knows? Maybe, by some divine intervention, I’ll find someone who can magically pull a damned underarmor out of their ass…”

Sapphiria let out a short, raspy sound analogic to a groan, while Tai’Yaana did her best to hold a serious face.

“Sometimes you’re such a turian, Sappho… With the stick up your ass and all…”

“Oh, just go, already.” The turian rolled her amber eyes at her.

“See you later, then!” Sybil threw as a goodbye, quickly turning on her heel.

Both aliens were immediately caught up in the discussion about ‘having a stick up their ass’ and various jokes associated with the phrase. Neither noticed the man who came from behind the corner and followed their human friend to the bar.

 

***

 

Reyes leaned back against the wall where it met the railing overlooking the main part of Kralla’s Song. As usual, Umi couldn’t complain about the lack of customers. By the sheer amount of cautious glances throwing around, he could easily tell that many of her clientele were busy striking shady deals in the dark and smoky corners of the bar.

One of his agents—a fair-skinned salarian dressed in crimson armor—stood a few steps away. His job was to observe and report back anything of note.

Vidal couldn’t help but think the poor amphibian would lose his mind if he knew the Charlatan himself stood right behind him. Especially since instead of doing what he was paid for, he tried to flirt with an asari. Judging by the bored expression on her azure-colored face, she didn’t care much about his advances. It seemed necessary to persuasively remind him what he was hired for. Yet another thing Reyes had to remember.

With a quiet sigh, he turned his attention back to Ryder.

With hands set on her hips, she stood on the ground level, not far from him. From his angle, he could spot an elaborate tattoo adorning the back of her neck as well as a grip of a pistol peeking from between the layers of her clothes.

After a quick look-around, the brunette walked towards an asari lazily sipping a colorful drink at one of the tables. Reyes didn't remember her name but his sources informed him she was a rival smuggler, one who still had some direct ties with the Nexus.

Despite being momentarily distracted, Reyes noticed how the waitress deliberately brushed against Ryder’s shoulder as they passed. Sybil’s reaction was immediate. Licking her pale lips, she glanced over her shoulder at the woman, without a doubt enjoying the sight. Reyes didn’t pay much attention to the playful waitress though, out of the corner of his eyes he caught her dark, curly hair and warm, caramel color of her skin.

The alien looked up at Ryder from over her drink with a curiously risen eyebrow and they began to talk. Vidal suspected she was trying to obtain replacement pieces of her destroyed armor.

They went back and forth but whatever Ryder was asking for was denied. The young woman leaned with one hand on the table, clearly trying to convince the asari to reconsider, but the verdict didn’t change.

Keeping his eyes on the young woman for the whole time, Vidal moved towards the lower level. As he passed his salarian agent, she was rushing to the bar, making a credit transfer as she walked. However, before Reyes managed to cross the room, she grabbed her drink and was on her way again.

“Fuck,” he muttered angrily under his breath when a turian standing by the counter unexpectedly caught the brunette by her wrist.

Ryder visibly clenched her teeth and tried to pull her hand away but the turian’s sharp talons didn’t let her go. Reyes moved closer so he could hear what was going on.

“That drink is mine!” the alien shouted.

Sybil smelled the contents with a deep frown creasing her eyebrows.

“Doubtful.” She downed the drink in one go and grimaced slightly afterwards. “I’m more than sure that it wasn't horosk or any turian brandy, buddy,” she replied and pulled to free her hand again.

Reyes was undecided whether he should he get mixed up in this or just watch how it would unfold from a safe distance.

“Let me go,” Ryder growled angrily.

“No.” The turian had no intention to withdraw.  
  
“Leave her be, Cyrus,” Umi ordered from behind the bar.

“No! I waited half an hour for you to finally serve me a drink and this bitch? She came and left with hers within few minutes…” Tugging Ryder by her wrist, he turned his head to the barmaid.

“Maybe because, unlike you, she’s able to actually pay for her drinks?” The asari snapped, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “Let her go,” she repeated firmly.

Vidal kept his eyes on Sybil through the exchange. It was clear her patience was hanging by a thread. Her face became rigid, lips pressed together in a thin line. Nothing however spoke as loud as her trapped hand curled into a fist—pale blue biotics flashing between her fingers in rhythmical intervals.

Seeing where it was heading, Vidal decided to smooth things over somehow.

“It’s your last chance, buddy,” Ryder warned, low and threatening. “I won’t repeat myself…”

“You’re staying until I get my fucking drink!” He yanked her wrist again.

What happened next was but a flash in Reyes' eyes.

Ryder threw her empty glass to the floor and using it as a distraction, forcefully pulled her wrist free. Then, she made a swift turn and with a fist enclosed by a buzzing, blue aurora smashed into the alien's face.

There was an audible crack and a pitiful yelp of pain. Then silence as Kralla’s guests gasped in surprise. Staggered by the sudden blow, the turian leaned his elbows onto the bar counter and soon after sank to the floor.

Everyone had their eyes on Ryder. Breathing heavily, she stood over the alien who was trying to keep his mandible together, blue blood already dripping through his fingers.

“I’ve warned you,” the brunette panted, massaging knuckles of her right hand.

Umi groaned.

“Damn it, Krong!” She shouted at the young and clearly inexperienced krogan bouncer who was staring at the brunette along with all the patrons. “What the fuck are you staring? Take this trash out before he stains the floor!”

While the krogan rushed between patrons, stepping on their toes, bashing shoulders and awkwardly excusing anyone on his way for doing so, the asari shot Ryder a sharp glance. Umi didn’t need to say anything, her glare was warning enough.

Sybil nodded and turned towards the exit.

The circumstances were far than perfect. Reyes had planned to approach her and charm his way through. Now it would be wise to postpone the meeting to a later date, but unfortunately, the matter was rather pressing.

Forced to improvise, hoping he wouldn't soon join the turian on the floor, Reyes put on his most rougish smirk and stopped the brunette on her way out.

“Glad to see you here, Ryder,” he greeted her as if nothing happened. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sybil glanced at him and sidestepped to pass him by, but he crossed her path again.

“Can’t you see I’m not exactly in the mood for any chit-chats?” she barked, looking at him from under furrowed brows.

“It’ll be worth your time. Promise.” Vidal winked at her playfully, hoping it would loosen the tense atmosphere.

Sybil exhaled deeply.

“Fine...” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “But not here.”

“You’re right. The atmosphere had turned kinda sour,” Reyes stated, as the krogan bouncer walked by with the injured turian thrown over his shoulder. “Come with me.” He waved his hand at her.

As he crossed the threshold, he turned to make sure Ryder was following him. He caught a glance of the waitress from before watching them, or rather Sybil, leave. The disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable.

A few minutes and staircases later, they were both leaning against the railing of a terrace overlooking the port’s market square. Vidal didn’t speak right away, giving the young woman a moment to calm down after the fray. Instead, he observed her breathing deeply with closed eyes, while strands of chestnut hair danced on the light wind around her youthful face, so cruelly marred by an ugly, irregular scar.

“You wanted to talk or just to stare at me… Mister?” Sybil finally broke the silence, trying to brush back the wild locks from her eyes.

“Excuse my manners... Reyes Vidal.” The introduction was followed by a quiet chuckle. “And yes, conversation is definitely my main goal, but I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy the view.”

The brunette rolled her steel-blue eyes at him. “Cut to the point,” she rushed him.

“You see, Ryder, I might’ve overheard your exchange with the armor merchant earlier—” He didn’t but he ensured the krogan merchant wouldn’t have anything useful left to sell. “—and it just so happens I’m currently in possession of the equipment you’re looking for…” Her cut eyebrow rose. “I firmly believe we can help each other, you and I.”

“How so?” Sybil narrowed her pale blue eyes.

“I have a job offer for the Sirens and thought I might add it as a part of your payment,” he proposed.

“Very generous of you…” Ryder’s voice tinged with suspicion. “What do you need us for?”

“Free a man held by the Roekaar,” he explained. The brunette made a face at the mention of the angaran extremist group. “I’m a shuttle pilot, so I’ll take care of physically taking him out of there. You—”

“We’re supposed to be muscle, right?”

“Yes,” Vidal confirmed. “Unless you have a better idea, of course.”

“Can you provide us with the blueprints of the compound?”

Reyes nodded.

“I’ll send you everything you need to know as soon as I know you’re in.”

Sybil’s pale lips stretched in a small smile.

“Well, I’ll consider your offer as soon as I know how much you’re paying for our services,” she said, feeding him the twist on his own words.

The corners of his mouth curled up as well. Vidal couldn’t help it, with every passing minute, he was growing to like her.

“Gear and three hundred credits for you and six hundred for each of your lady-friends,” he proposed.

“No way.” Ryder shook her head. “Underarmor costs up to a thousand credits… It’s not fair, they aren’t subsiding me in anything,” she stated firmly. “I’m taking the gear and girls get an equivalence.”

This time Reyes rose an eyebrow. He has always enjoyed the haggling part.

“A thousand? Are you sure? As far as I know, an underarmor’s prices don’t go much beyond eight hundred…”

The brunette knotted her arms over her chest and squinted suspiciously.

“A pilot who knows the prices so well…” She was thinking out loud and very quickly. “You’re a smuggler, aren’t you, Vidal?”

“A job is a job, Ryder.”

“True. But it also explains much.” Amused, Ryder laughed softly in response. “Fine,” she conceded. “Eight and fifty for my friends paid upfront and we’ll work for you.”

“You’re driving a hard bargain, Ryder. But I like that you don’t want to sell your friends short,” Reyes admitted. “Eight-fifty for them—half paid now and the rest when the hostage is safe and sound, and mostly on his merry way out of the Roekaar camp.” He put forward his right hand in a gesture of sealing the deal.

For a moment Ryder looked him straight in the eyes, searching for what felt like reassurances that he would keep his end of the bargain.

“We’re in,” she finally agreed in the Sirens’ name and firmly shook his hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is appreciated ;)


	4. A Lift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while... It feels like coming back from the afterlife (and definitely not the one where you can watch some dancers and have a drink) but I'm back with a new chapter.
> 
> Once again, big thanks to the kind Natsora for helping me make this thing actually readable ;)
> 
> \+ a fair warning that I allowed myself to take some creative liberty with how some pieces of armor work in ME:A universe as well as with some angaran customs.

 

 

 

“Anubis to flight control. Requesting for permission to land on the deck three,” Reyes called as soon as the outline of the Kadara Port became visible on the horizon.

Usually, he would slowed down his approach to the docks to admire port’s terraces, antennas and floating water tanks, gradually emerging from between the feathery, pastel-colored clouds. Unfortunately, today Vidal didn’t have the time for idle self-indulgence.

Besides being late meeting the Sirens, his mind was occupied by something else. An unexpected _issue_ came to light when he visited his secret stash. It was hidden safely in the alcove inside one of the countless caverns scattered around the Badlands. Or so he thought until someone set off a provisional safety measure.

The booby trap worked even better than he had anticipated. Small explosives on the ceiling went off causing some of the stalactites to fall on the intruder. It not only scared off a potential thief, but judging by the trail of scarlet drops, also injured them in the process.

Still, the cave wasn’t safe anymore. Whoever had found it now knew something valuable was hidden there. Reyes couldn’t relocate his cache right away, so he installed another unpleasant surprise for any unwanted visitors. To his dismay, this delayed his arrival to the port.

“Permission granted, Anubis,” a familiar voice replied. It belonged to the man overseeing the Kadara Port’s main docking area.

Reyes pushed his personal problems aside. He needed to focus on the assignment at hand. Other affairs, no matter how concerning, shouldn’t be distracting him.

“Any interesting cargo?” the man asked.

Vidal shook his head while his glove-covered fingers danced over the glowing console in well-memorized sequences, preparing his vessel for the descend. Dalton was probably not at all subtly referring to the goods he ordered a week ago.

“It’ll probably be hard to believe but there’s no contraband, Colt. I’m just a chauffeur today,” he replied, taking notice of the two figures awaiting his arrival. “Still working on finding you that beer. I’ll message you as soon as I get my hands on it. Promise.”

Getting closer to the landing zone, Reyes could take a better look of them, immediately noticing the Sirens were getting a little impatient. Already dressed in tactical gear, with a dark cloak draped over her wide shoulders, the angara female was nervously bouncing on her legs. Meanwhile, still in her worn leather jacket, Ryder was pacing behind her alien comrade.

“Bloody hope so,” Colt grumbled in response. “I’m not sticking my neck out for nothing.”

“You’re taking a cut from the sales.”

“We’ve talked about this, Vidal. I don’t accept any bribes,” the man insisted. “Dalton out.”

 _Completely incorruptible, aren’t you?_ Reyes smiled wryly.

A few, swift moves of his hands later, he landed smoothly right before the two women. Without giving it much thought, Vidal readjusted his vest and pulled the lever. The shuttle’s door slid open.

“You looked like you’re waiting for someone,” he playfully greeted the women, turning towards them on his seat as they boarded.

“That obvious?” Sybil retorted, earning a soft giggle from the angara.

“Sorry, Ryder,” he apologized, sounding maybe a bit too nonchalant to believe he was truly contrite. “I had to take care of something…”

The brunette only rolled her eyes and unceremoniously dropped the box she brought onto the floor right next to two of his in the back.

“Where’s the third Siren?” Reyes continued, leaning forward from the pilot’s seat to see if anyone had been left behind.

“Already on the lookout,” the angara answered him. “Tai’Yaana, by the way,” she introduced herself while Ryder got busy seeking for something in her crate.

Even though the Siren extended her arm to him expecting a simple handshake, Reyes stood and positioned his in the angaran greeting.

“Reyes Vidal,” he reciprocated, observing how alien’s glossy, azure eyes widened, and her adorned with golden rings brows rose in surprise. Within a blink of an eye, her bright blue face lit up with a beaming smile.

Not many exiles cared to learn even simple gestures which would allow them to get closer to the natives. Bitterly, Vidal assumed it might have had something to do with the way they were treated by the Kadara Port’s current _ruler_ and her goons. Reyes didn’t consider himself an example of virtues by any means but knowledge of at least a few cultural quirks of the people, with whom he was constantly rubbing his shoulders, have always proven to be an advantage.

“You can call me Tai,” the alien proposed warmly, crossing her forearm with his.

“Nice to meet you, Tai.” He casually dropped back into his seat. “We can head out then?”

Both of their eyes focused on Sybil.

“Well, yeah, but before we go—” Ryder stood up from over her crate, tossing her folded sword up into the air and catching it swiftly.

 _Show-off_ , Reyes sneered to himself.

“—my payment.” The brunette set her hands on her hips. “Also, the data you’ve sent us was incomplete. Maybe you’d care to brief us on who you want to take from this base?”

Of course Sirens needed to know how to recognise Evfra’s spy among the other angara to fulfill their contract, but Reyes had his reasons to withhold this information. He didn’t trust the Sirens enough to give them all the intel. But without this crucial information, they could still plan and had no way of hoodwinking him.

“First thing first...” He didn’t care to hide he was actually relishing the situation. “You’ll find your payment inside the orange crate in the back—” With a tilt of his head, Vidal pointed at the container. “—and I’ll brief you as soon as you suit up.”

Using the moment when both of the women looked towards the container, Reyes discreetly adjusted the screen hanging on his right so he could see their reflections.

Sybil pushed back the lid and immediately took out her new underarmor. She held it before herself, thoroughly inspecting it. Reyes did the same thing no more than an hour earlier.

Excluding a few scratches scattered here and there on its dark grey surface, the suit was near pristine—diagnostics of its internal systems told him everything, including its VI, was one hundred percent functional.

“It looks different from the one you had.” He heard the angara’s hushed voice behind his back.

It was indeed. Unlike the soft-padded version issued for the Nexus’ security Ryder owned before, this one was not only made from more durable materials but also reinforced with a flexible polymer plating. Initially intended to be used by officers delegated to protect the Initiative’s colonies this model was a much better choice for someone working as a sword for hire.

“I threw in something extra,” he added in passing while flicking the last switches on the glowing steering console before him on. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Soft murmur of the engines filled the interior as he briefly saw Ryder throwing her new piece of equipment over her shoulder and looking back into the crate.

“A jump-jet…” Reyes didn’t need to look to know she found it a rather suspicious gesture on his part. “Why would you just give it to me?”

“Very simple, Ryder,” he stated half-laughing. “I’ve heard you need one and it’s in my best interest to have you at your finest.” Not waiting for a response, he simply opened the comm channel to flight control: “Anubis to flight control. Is the east path clear?”

“You’re a lucky bastard, Vidal, the east just cleared for the departure.” Colt’s voice answered through the speaker. “Dalton out.”

“Hang on to something, girls,” Reyes threw over his shoulder, his lips involuntarily stretching into a satisfied grin when the sound of engines became louder with the growing acceleration of the propulsion systems. “It might shake for a moment.” Swiftly pushing one of the right levers, he closed the shuttle doors and smoothly took the vessel up in the air.

After flying out of the port’s busy air traffic area and programming the coordinates of their destination into the navigation, Reyes looked back at the screen reflecting his passengers. Tai’Yaana was checking something on her omni-tool-like device, while Sybil stood with her back to him, already dressed up to her waist in her undersuit.

His gaze lingered as she carelessly threw her shirt in the crate with the rest of her clothes, leaving her upper body covered only with a simple, black sports bra.

When dressed she looked rather lean, but now Vidal could clearly see the cords of muscles flexing under her light skin. The other thing which drew his attention was a long, still not entirely healed wound—one she received earlier this week—cutting through her back. Judging by the brunette’s occasional hisses it must have been still causing her some pain. He hoped it wouldn’t affect her performance in the coming assault.

He must have been way too obvious in his staring, realising it only when Tai'Yaana coughed meaningfully into her fist. Barely a second later, Sybil’s eyes met his through the reflection on the screen.

“Enjoying yourself, I see.” An unexpected playfulness to her voice made him chuckle. “I’d prefer if you focus on piloting this tin can,” she stated, rapping the roof of the shuttle with her knuckles.

“ _Tin can_? Seriously, Ryder?” he exclaimed, exasperated by her words.

He wouldn’t be happy with anyone calling anything he flew a tin can, not even the good old, battered Kodiak he owned back in the Milky Way. Let alone the shuttle wired with top of the line systems he was piloting now.

A warm, genuine laughter resounded from behind him.

“Are you offended on behalf of your ship?”

“She’s a great bird.” Vidal affectionately patted the console before him.

He was about to elaborate when a reading on one of the sensors caught his attention. A signature of a small shuttle-sized spacecraft was approaching them head on and fast, too fast to try calling its pilot on the comm. Moreover, they were flying through a narrow corridor between the two, high mountain sides leaving him only two ways of evasion.

“Now really hang on to something!” he called out.

Reyes shot a quick glance at the readings on the other scanners. Seeing markers of the huge, manta-like creatures flying at higher altitudes, he made a sharp dive deeper into the valley.

 

* * *

 

Sybil slid one of her arms into the sleeve of the underarmor and was about to dress the other one when Vidal broke their playful banter ordering them to hold onto something.

“What the—” She broke mid-sentence, realizing a distinctively angaran spacecraft was hastily approaching them from the opposite direction.

Immediately, Ryder threw her hand up towards one of the handles on the roof but it had already been too late. Before her fingers reached it, the shuttle abruptly dove. It didn’t matter how desperately she wanted to keep herself upright, Sybil quickly lost her foothold. Hideously cursing, she fell heavily.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Tai’Yaana clutching tight onto the crates in the back, all while swearing in Shelesh in ways she had never heard before. Not able to grasp onto anything herself, Ryder helplessly rolled forward, towards the ship’s cockpit, with a yelp of pain slamming into the pilot’s seat—her head hitting hard against its solid back. Force of the impact caused her vision to go dark for a split second, in which she swore she heard bells ringing in her ears.

“Son of a bitch...” Sybil groaned, getting herself into a sitting position, shortly after the alien vessel _whooshed_ above their heads and Reyes flattened out the flight.

For a moment she just sat with her eyes tracing the patterns of the metal floor, waiting for the pounding in her head to ease up a little. When she had finally looked up, a three-fingered hand of her angaran companion was outstretched above her. Sybil took it and quickly got hoisted up from the floor.

“Everyone in one piece?” Vidal asked, looking at them through his shoulder.

“I demand a compensation for the bruises,” Ryder grumbled, checking if her skull was in one piece. Thankfully, she didn’t find any blood where it hurt the most. It seemed she was going to only have an ugly bump to remind her about their almost collision.

“Meet me at the bar sometime and we’ll make it even.” He winked and turned back to his console.

“Better prepare your wallet, Vidal,” she threatened, getting back to dressing. “You won’t get out of this with just a one drink.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair? I did just saved our lives,” he pointed out, undoubtedly proud of himself.

Sybil sighed.

“Fine. One drink,” she yielded. “But a good one.”

The smuggler snickered from his seat.

“On that I can agree.”

“Good thing Sappho took the Turtle.” Tai cut in half-laughingly and, once both of Sybil’s arms were finally in their respective sleeves, threw her the gauntlet she had dropped while falling.

“Oh, we’d surely have lots of turian vomit around here right now,” Sybil replied, but somehow the sentence didn’t come up as funny as she intended.

Maybe it was because her head was pounding. Maybe it was because she didn't blame Sappho for avoiding air travel like the plague. If she had woken up from stasis while falling down from the sky, canned inside her pod, she would have most likely prefered to stick to the solid ground as well.

Besides, there was something bugging her about the kamikaze vessel.

“You probably know ships, Reyes,” she turned to the smuggler. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s an angaran shuttle, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Vidal confirmed without enthusiasm, face deep in the various readings that stretched out before him on the command console.

“Shit, so it wasn’t only me who thought so...” Ryder muttered and swiftly zipped up her suit. “Let’s hope it won’t bring any reinforcements,” she added, unknowingly vocalising everyone’s worst fear.

An unpleasant silence fell between them.

Of course it was entirely possible the sudden appearance of an angaran vessel was mere coincidence. After all there were still some groups of unaffiliated locals thriving on the Badlands, so it wasn’t necessarily the Roekaar. Although, none of them were willing to believe it.

“Does it fit?” Vidal’s voice pulled Sybil away from her unsettling thoughts. She was sure he was looking at her reflection on one of his infernal screens.

“Let’s see, shall we?” she replied, decisively shunning any remaining worries. _What’s to be, will be_ , she thought and pressed a small button that made the excesses of the suit’s material shrink. Not only did it hug every angle and curve of her body, it also automatically synced both her biotic implant and omni-tool. Blue aurora lit around her fingertips for a brief moment before it got _sucked_ back into her hands. “Like a glove,” she commented with a satisfied grin, rolling her shoulders.

“Knew it would,” Reyes declared confidently.

Ryder laughed under her breath. _Of course you did._

“We’re getting close, right?” she asked once, with a bit of help from Tai’Yaana, her breastplate as well as new jump-jet were secured. “Tell us what we should know.”

“We are just a few klicks away. Give me a sec, I’ll transfer the data to your turian friend, first.” Vidal enabled a small screen and entered a command code.

Closing the vambraces around her forearms, Sybil jumped into the vacant seat on his right, while the angara leaned her elbows onto both of their backrests.

 “Your target is the Angaran Resistance spy,” he stated with no further ado.

“Resistance?” Tai’Yaana looked at him, a frown twisting her features. “How for the stars’ sake you— _a vesagara_ —have managed to get involved with them?”

“That’s a rather long story. Ask me about it some other time, preferably over drinks, and maybe I’ll tell you.” With a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, Vidal turned on an additional holo-screen. “There you have him,” he said once the likeness of a grey-skinned angaran male showed up. “His name’s Kajaaj—”

“ _Skkut!_ ” Tai exclaimed taking a step back. “It’s a kid! I can’t believe it!” She threw her hands up and walked further back into the shuttle’s cargo.

Reyes sent Ryder a slightly worried look.

“Is this going to be a problem?” he whispered.

The brunette shook her head.

“I don’t think so. Just give her a moment to vent and process. She...” Sybil dropped her voice for a split second. “Tai has a history of disagreements with the Resistance leadership.”

“We don’t have much time, you know?”

With a sigh of annoyance, Ryder turned to face her friend.

“Sending youngsters undercover!” The alien continued ranting as she paced the back of the ship. “Is Evfra completely out of his damned mind?!”

Considering that—according to Tai herself—aside from disillusioned defectors from the Resistance, most of the Roekaar recruits were young angara, no one had better chance of blending in than a teenager. Even though it was a risky and unethical tactic, Sybil understood it.

“Tai,” Ryder called in an attempt to get the alien’s attention, her brain working full speed on how to calm her friend down. “Tai, listen. This isn’t a good moment to get pissed because of the Resistance’s decisions.” The angara audibly huffed at her. Ignoring this dismissive reaction, Ryder continued, speaking slower than usual to sound more appeasing, “We were employed to help get this kid out. If we succeed, tomorrow he can be back with his family. Try to focus on that, okay?”

After a two more circles around the empty cargo Tai’Yaana stopped her nervous pacing.

“Fine…” the angara agreed reluctantly. “If he even has one...” she muttered grimly to herself. Neither Sybil nor Reyes dared comment on the remark, aware of the Resistance’s ongoing struggle with the kett.

“Does this boy have any distinguishable features? We need to identify him among the other Roekaar...” With Tai'Yaana seemingly talked down, Ryder wanted to get back to the briefing.

“He’s wearing a yellow _rofjinn_.”

Eyebrows risen high, the brunette looked at Vidal.

“Really? We’re supposed to recognise him by his poncho?”

Reyes opened his mouth to explain when Tai’Yaana leaned in between them.

“We will, Sybil,” she assured. “The patterns on the materials and their colors are differentiated between families, these form unique combinations. Sometimes there is even a name woven into it.”

“You realise, although I can understand Shelesh, I still can’t read it, right?” Sybil emphasized, glowering at her.

“But I can,” Tai declared, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Seriously, I assume they gave you a picture of the material.” The angara turned to the smuggler.

Vidal nodded as he brought the shuttle down between the rock formations near the location he had picked as their look out spot.

“Swipe the screen to the left.”

“See?” The angara pointed at the pattern. “This is a very unusual color. We wouldn’t have any problems with recognizing Kajaaj even in a thick crowd at Aya’s market.”

Sybil frowned, not exactly convinced. _Maybe it is unusual, but it looks more green to me..._

“I’m transferring this to my omni-tool,” Ryder declared, enabling the glowing device. “It’ll be easier when I’m able to see it on my visor.”

“Be my guest...” With these words Vidal smoothly landed behind a huge boulder, close to where Sappho parked their ATV.

As soon as the shuttle touched down, without a word of notice, Sybil jumped out of the seat and, taking the crate with her clothes on her way, went outside.

 

* * *

 

A gust of cool, sulphurous-smelling wind washed over Reyes when he stepped out of his ship. He assumed that the angaran all terrain vehicle must have been what both Sirens lovingly referred as _the Turtle_. With a small smile, he admitted it indeed looked like one.

Few steps away, next to the rover, Sybil was loading her heavy submachine gun. Propped against one of its wheels, a rather common kett rifle Zalkin waited for Tai’Yaana, although she passed the weapon, instead diving into the ATV’s trunk.

Reyes drew his gaze back to Ryder. It was only now he had a proper look at the rather shabby patchwork armour, made out of pieces from different sets she wore. Her gear desperately required a major upgrade.

“Catch!” Tai called, throwing a small egg-shaped device at Sybil.

Ryder caught it easily with one hand.

“What does it do?” Reyes watched attentively as the brunette turned the thing in her fingers a couple times. Given TaiYaana’s background, he suspected it was probably some sort of explosive, a grenade maybe.

“I was about to ask,” Sybil laughed. “I keep forgetting what the colored dots mean.”

The angara shook her head at her, laughing softly.

“Yellow always means a flasher,” she explained. “Might come in handy if things get a bit too hot. Just remember to close your eyes after throwing it.”

“Ah, the one that produces a flash of light. Thanks.” Ryder tucked the grenade inside the pouch hanging over her left hip. “You remembered to pack the smokers, right?” she asked attaching a couple additional pistol clips to her belt.

Reyes couldn’t help but wonder why Tai’Yaana wasn’t selling these things. With the dangerous predators roaming the Badlands as well as growing antagonism between the Outcasts and the Collective there was definitely a market for such gadgets on Kadara. His mind quickly wandered to how much of an advantage over their opponents his people would gain if they had them in their arsenal.

“Yeah, I have two of them and one more flasher.” Tai patted three explosives pinned to her hip. “Sappho should have some on her too.”

“Speaking of Sappho, she’s probably getting hella impatient by now. Let’s not make her wait any longer, shall we?” Ryder took her helmet and moved. “C’mon.” With a gesture of her armor-clad hand she invited Reyes to follow as she passed him.

Although, not exactly used to following anyone’s lead, he joined the Sirens and as a trio, they went onto a narrow passage leading between two steep scarps. The path gradually widened and eventually opened onto a spacious rock shelf overlooking the Roekaar outpost in the valley beneath.

The third Siren was awkwardly squating behind a small, rocky outcrop. She turned towards them as they left the corridor. The first thing that caught his attention was the asymmetry of her features caused by the spike of her left mandible being broken off. Very simple, dark blue markings surrounded the turian woman’s sharp eyes—the right one slightly obscured by a blinking visor—making the yellow of her irises stand out even more than they would if her silvery-gray plates were bare.

“Quickly! Get down before the watchtower sees you!” Speravi waved her hand down at them. “You took your sweet time,” she sneered, when all four were safely hidden next to her.

“There were some small complications on the way,” Sybil explained broadly. “What’s the situation?”

“Mostly quiet,” the turian replied but Vidal easily recognised nervousness in the movement of her mandibles. “Team of four left early in the morning and a shuttle took off not long ago,” she continued. “They seemed to be in a hurry.”

Ryder groaned loudly causing Sappho to frown at her. Unknowingly her alien comrade confirmed the brunette’s worst suspicion.

“We’ve almost met them,” Sybil informed, her tone low and grim. “Fuckers nearly flew head on into us.”

Sapphiria just looked at the brunette speechless, wide-eyed with—even more frantic than before—twitching of mandibles betraying that the information shook her.

“How many Roekaar are left down there?” Ryder gestured at the compound, getting back on track.

“Should be around ten of them, including our target.”

Sybil brought hand to her lips and hummed into it, assessing their chances.

“So three to one…” she mumbled under her breath. “We should be fine as long as the guys who headed out in the morning don’t come back.”

“Have you seen the kid? I mean, target…” Tai’Yaana scooted a bit closer to the turian. “Where should I look for him?”

“He’s easy to recognize.” The angara smirked at Sybil, who immediately rolled her steel-blue eyes. Sappho ignored both of them and continued, “He patrolled the perimeter two, maybe three hours ago. The last time I’ve seen him, he went into the eastern building.”

Tai thoughtfully nodded.

For a moment all three of them turned to the Roekaar base.

“What’s your plan?” Curious, Reyes asked during a lapse of silence between the Sirens.

“Nothing too elaborate.” Sybil shrugged. “Tai goes in first to take care of whoever is in the watchtower and cuts their comms from there. Me and Sappho will wait for her signal. When she’s done, we’ll get into the position there—” She pointed at the building nearest to their current location“—meanwhile Tai causes a distraction so we’ll have an element of surprise.”

“Ideally, when those two ladies will be getting most of the heat, I’ll be able to get the boy to safety... If not, my job is to protect him,” the angara added. “It’s actually quite fortunate he’s turned out to be one of us. It’ll make everything much easier for me.”

Reyes was about to ask what they had planned for him, but Sybil preceded him.

“I’ll call you once the place will be cleared.” A playful smirk pulled at the corner of her pale lips. “We wouldn’t want to risk scratching your precious bird, after all.”

“Thanks for the concern,” he chuckled

“You’re welcome.”

Ryder looked at the other Sirens, her smile turning a bit more pugnacious than before.

“So we’re ready?”

Both aliens nodded in unison.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the story will pick up speed from now on ^^
> 
> Kudos are lovely and all but I'd love to hear from you! Not only I appreciate any and all feedback but comments in general just make my heart sing <3


End file.
